Author's Note: This may be just a one-shot, but it also may grow into something more, I don't know myself. I hope everyone will enjoy this.
Sitting in the chemical-smelling airplane seat with a screaming child behind him, a gum-chewing stewardess walking by him – and a tiny old lady who snored like a huge dude next to him – Soo Ho Kim cursed his father, his existence, and the entirety of South Korea. The old lady let out a particularly loud and powerful snort, and he put his headphones on, putting his playlist on shuffle, letting Drake's voice overpower the screaming behind him. He seethed, knowing with a damning certainty that he didn't deserve this – this exile. When the summer was over and he returned home to California, he was not speaking to his father for at least a month. At most, a year.
It had all started when his sister returned from her school trip to a sister school in somewhere called Busan, somewhere in South Korea. She came back, glowing with Korean makeup, laughing behind her hand, and charming Grandma with her language skills. Their father was impressed. More than impressed. "Yah, why can't you be more like your sister!" he would say, when Soo Ho got himself into any sort of scrape. Which, yes, he would do often – but not often to warrant that kind of a reaction.
Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised when his dad began to send him to Korean language classes. What surprised him was how far he was willing to go to ensure that Soo Ho suddenly became some sort of perfect Korean boy. "Dudes," Soo Ho would tell his soccer team, "I was born in San Francisco. I'm one hundred percent Californian. I can't even order a burger in Korean – and my dad thinks I should be fluent by this point." They would slam him on the back, and things would be good.
Until his father found out about The Girlfriend, The Brother and The Party. The Girlfriend was capitalized because there was no other way to put it. She totally liked him. Which, of course, wasn't surprising that he was a hot Asian dude who worked out. You couldn't get much better than that. The Girlfriend was hot, blonde, sporty and smart – a legendary combination. She was a surfer, and had a big rack (a motorcycle rack, not a bicycle rack – to most people's chagrin, Soo Ho used this description much too often). The thing was – her brother was all of those things and more (minus the rack). And when Soo Ho saw him getting out of the pool, shirtless and dripping – he came to a rather shocking and awkward conclusion.
He was very much physically attracted to dudes. The dude was hot.
The was only the beginning. There was a party – the kind of party where there are red plastic cups with beer and god-knows-what in them left laying around on the front lawn, and the cops show up at around three in the morning. It was obviously the kind of party that Soo Ho loved and that his father would never let him step a foot near (somehow, his English getting worse the more annoyed he got about it). Obviously, that never stopped Soo Ho. He was Soo Ho Kim and he owned those parties.
Until The Party (also capitalized, because there was no other way to put it). He was getting drunk, making out with his hot girlfriend and playing beer pong – until The Brother showed up. A few things happened, a few more beers were downed… And then, Soo Ho woke up the next morning in his girlfriend's bed… With The Brother.
There was no question about what had happened. He had hickeys and questionable stains to prove it. He had just slept with a dude; and judging by the used condoms, had liked it enough to go for at least three rounds.
It wouldn't have been the first time he had cheated on a girlfriend, but it sure as hell was the first time he had cheated on a girlfriend with her brother. It would have been more awkward if The Girlfriend hadn't cheated on him with one of the band kids from school. They were both wrong and they maturely decided to just break up and leave it at that.
But somehow, his father found out. He didn't seem to care at all about the fact that he had slept with a dude per se – but what he did care about was that he had gone to One Of Those Parties and that he had done Unspeakable Things such as Drinking Beer, Having Sex and Doing Typically Teenage Things (instead of what, studying?).
And that somehow resulted in him being sent to Korea for the summer before he started college.
The only positive things about being in a foreign country for three months would be that A) nobody would make 'ho' jokes about his name and B) that he wouldn't be looked askance at for sleeping with a dude, because nobody would know. That was it. Those were only good things about South Goddamn Korea and Seoul Fucking City – and he usually prided himself on being a very chill and positive dude.
Soo Ho managed to fall asleep on the plane, despite the other passengers. When he disembarked from the plane and managed to get through customs and the airport, he huffily paced the lobby area. He got a text from his father asking, 'Did you get there alright?' He made a face and sent a text to him that contained nothing but the middle-finger emoji. That gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction, because, really, what could his dad do? At some point, he was told, someone from the family he was supposed to be staying with would show up and drive him to the place. It was some dude called Park… Park something. He couldn't really remember.
But he stood there for what seemed like an hour and the dude didn't show up.
Maybe he just couldn't find a place to 'Park' his car. Soo Ho cringed at his own joke.
His arms got really tired from holding the bag (and he worked out a lot – so that meant something) so he went and sat down. He tried chatting up a few girls, but the language barrier was a problem. They giggled behind their hands and talked really fast in Korean. He tried to communicate that they were really cute and maybe they could have some coffee with him but they left with some older dude holding a sign (ostensibly with their names on it – Soo Ho still couldn't read Korean hieroglyphs and shit).
He bought himself a coffee with his card, using one of the few vocabulary words he could remember, 'thanks'. He drank the coffee. The homestay dude still didn't show up, and airport coffee wasn't good, even in Korea – where (probably) according to his father, people were one hundred percent flawless, shat rainbows and got perfect scores on their math tests. He finished his coffee angrily and threw the Styrofoam cup in the nearest trash can from where he sat.
There was the sound of someone clapping. "Wow! Nice shot, California boy."
Soo Ho turned around. Behind him, the gayest dude he had ever seen sat, drinking some sort of fancy drink with a straw. His Gucci sunglasses were perched on his forehead, and his pink button-up shirt matched his shoes. "Uh, thanks?" Soo Ho said, wondering how the hell the dude had known where he was from.
"It's on your hoodie," the dude added helpfully, sipping from his straw. "I'm Yeo Wool. Last name Kim."
Glancing down at his hoodie, Soo Ho realized that it did indeed say, 'California'. He grinned and stuck his hand out. "Uh, Soo Ho. Last name also Kim."
Yeo Wool's hand was really cold and pale, and the number of golden rings and bracelets he wore might have surpassed a world record. This homie was rich. "You spend a few more hours here and you'll meet like, ten more people whose name is 'Kim'," he said dryly, taking a long sip from his straw. "As a Korean-American to another Korean-American," he said, raising his eyebrows, "We might not all look the same, but we sure as hell all have the same names." He folded his fingers down. "Kim, Park, Lee, Choi." He wiggled his remaining six fingers. "Anyone else is an outlier." Yeo Wool finished his fruity drink with a single 'slurp' and re-applied his lip gloss.
"Oh," Soo Ho said (unsure of what exactly he was supposed to say to that), sliding into the seat across from Yeo Wool.
"So, what are you doing here?" Yeo Wool asked. "Coming to study abroad?"
"I'm in exile," Soo Ho said bitterly. "Went to a sick party. Now I'm here."
"Whoa, your parents are strict," sighed Yeo Wool. "That's tough, being sent to a foreign country just because of a party…" He grinned and winked. "I'm here for love."
"Really?" Soo Ho asked. "…Like, you're gonna go on a dating spree of Koreans?"
"My online boyfriend lives in Seoul," Yeo Wool clarified. "And I'm going to meet up with him."
"Oh, I see." Soo Ho sighed. "Lucky dude…"
"Don't worry, you'll find yourself a boyfriend," Yeo Wool said sympathetically, patting Soo Ho's hand.
Soo Ho stared at him. "Dude-"
"Darling, my gaydar isn't ever wrong," Yeo Wool said, pursing his lips. "You're at least bi."
"Dude, I only slept with another dude like, once," Soo Ho grumbled. "And now I'm in South Fucking Korea," he added, but Yeo Wool ignored that.
Yeo Wool looked satisfied. "There we go. One's enough, believe me. There'll be more to come," he said, spreading his arms, to indicate how many. Soo Ho realized that his shirt was made out of delicate material that was as see-through as it was clingy, too smooth to be gauze and too translucent to be silk.
"What is your shirt?" he asked impulsively, curious.
"Versace," Yeo Wool answered imperturbably. "The pants are Gucci, just like the sunglasses, and the shoes are Prada." He cast a critical eye over Soo Ho's sneakers, basketball shorts and 'California' hoodie. "You're a walking Nike advertisement," he said with amusement. "Let me guess. You play soccer?"
"Uh, yeah?" Soo Ho answered defensively. "So what?"
Yeo Wool smirked and looked at his painted nails. "I've heard that soccer players' upper bodies aren't as cut as their legs…"
This was more familiar ground, and Soo Ho grinned, taking his sweatshirt off in the most arm-flexey way. "You just scored yourself a front-row ticket to the guns show," he said. "I never skip arm day."
Yeo Wool looked impressed. "That was a terrible joke, but you do have nice arms," he said with a nod. "Do you drink protein shakes and things like that?"
"Ew, no," Soo Ho said. "Hate those. I just go to the gym."
"Hm. Maybe I should work out more often than I already do… Han Sung's type seems to be buff guys…" he sighed. "Not my type, unfortunately, but hey."
Suddenly, 'Bad Romance' by Lady Gaga began to play, and Yeo Wool took his phone out of his bag, beginning to speak rapid-fire Korean. The dude had 'Bad Romance' as his ringtone. Soo Ho didn't know whether he should be laughing… With his limited vocabulary, Soo Ho managed to pick out a conversation like this;
"Hello?" asked Yeo Wool.
"Hey, it's me!"
"Han Sung, my love!" Yeo Wool's face lit up.
"I came here quickly to get you."
"Ah, you! Such a sweetie! I'll be right there!" sang Yeo Wool, jumping up and slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing the handle of his pink Gucci roller case.
"Love you!" the boy on the other end of the phone said cheerfully.
"Love you too!" Yeo Wool crooned. Han Sung hung up first. Yeo Wool looked prepared to run out, but turned back to Soo Ho and called over his shoulder, "See you again, maybe, California Boy!"
Soo Ho lifted a hand in a wave, and then slumped back in the chair, kicking his sports bag full of clothes. He played a few games on his phone, scrolled through Instagram, and liked a few photos of hot girls (and one hot dude). He bought a burger by pointing at a menu and saying, 'please' – another of his hastily-recalled Korean vocabulary words. He ate that, and then wondered if he should fall asleep, bored out of his mind. The airport Wi-Fi was absolute shit. He scrolled through Instagram again and it froze. He swore. He glanced up.
Oh, that was a mistake.
That was when he saw The Hot Dude and his phone fell dramatically out of his hands (and luckily managed to land on the chair between his comfortably spread legs instead of clattering to the ground).
The Hot Dude strode in through the glass doors of the airport as if he owned the place. He was dressed in a very sharp way, and his hair was combed back, maybe gelled – Soo Ho couldn't tell at this distance. His eyes were- Soo Ho swallowed. Holy shit. They weren't just eyes, they were Eyes. Somehow, the Hot Dude managed to look pissed off and super attractive at the same time. He was looking around for someone or something, and he hoped it wasn't a girlfriend, because Soo Ho's shirt was made out of boyfriend material, and he'd like to see it on The Hot Dude's floor.
Somewhere either in the background, or in Soo Ho's mind, 'My Heart Will Go On' began to play.
Soo Ho forgot himself and stared. The Hot Dude's Eyes fell on him. It was like one of those moments in life when the expression 'locked gazes' seemed to fit. And again, it wasn't just a gaze, it was a Gaze. Soo Ho's heart jumped and he flexed his arm muscles in a subconscious attempt to impress. The Hot Dude raised his eyebrows and broke off his Gaze, looking down at his phone, then back at Soo Ho. He walked faster and stopped in front of Soo Ho, who was still staring.
"Are you Kim Soo Ho?" The Hot Dude asked (in Korean, obviously), his Eyes narrowed slightly.
"Uh, I am," Soo Ho answered back (also in Korean). It was so weird to have one's last name said before one's first name. It was one's last name for a reason. But The Hot Dude could say Soo Ho's name any way he liked- Soo Ho mentally slapped himself. Up close, this dude looked less like he wanted to get laid and much more like he wanted to fight. "Why?"
"I am Park Ban Ryu," The Hot Dude said stiffly.
Then, it clicked. "Oh!" Soo Ho said, before Park Ban Ryu could say anything more. "You're the… Person whose house I will be staying in." He didn't remember the word for 'homestay host', but he figured he got the meaning across.
"Yes," Ban Ryu said, turning on his heel. "Come."
Soo Ho made a face. Jesus, who put a stick up this dude's butt? He might've been hot, but he acted like quite the asshole. However, he just shrugged and slung his sports bag over his shoulder, following Hot Dude Ban Ryu.
Ban Ryu's car was a black Lambo, and Soo Ho's eyes widened. Another rich homie. If he was staying in this dude's house, Seoul might actually not be that bad. Ban Ryu got in and motioned impatiently for Soo Ho to do the same. Soo Ho shrugged and climbed into the front passenger seat, throwing his bag in the back. "So, uh," he tried in broken Korean, "How old are you?"
"I was born in 1998," Ban Ryu said, not even looking at him.
Soo Ho paused. Couldn't he just say he was nineteen? "Me as well," he said. "That's cool," he added, in a desperate attempt to connect.
"What month?" flatly asked Ban Ryu, having none of that.
"Uh, the sixth one," Soo Ho said, unable to remember the word for 'June' in Korean.
"I'm older," Ban Ryu said, looking very satisfied, as if he had won some sort of great personal victory. "I was born in… The fourth one." He gave a Soo Ho a sideways look.
Oh, he might've been so hot it was unreal – but he was an utter asshole. Soo Ho glared. "Hey, I don't speak Korean in a native way, okay?" he retorted.
Ban Ryu looked unperturbed. "Learn," he said. "You're Korean, aren't you?"
"I'm an American. I get born in America. I live in America." He angrily hummed the opening bars of the national anthem at 2x speed. "Ame-erica, fuck ye-eah!" he added.
"Not any more, it would seem. You're going to be living here for three months, no?" Ban Ryu's (beautiful, chiseled) lips thinned. "Like I said – learn."
"Fuckin' asshole jerk. What a dick," Soo Ho said in English, huffily settling back in the seat and glaring out the window, Ban Ryu's gorgeous reflection in the glass pissing him off further. Assholes shouldn't be allowed to be good-looking! He hated this dude already. "Jerkface." Ban Ryu's expression didn't change and he didn't respond to the English insults. Soo Ho tried to repress a grin.
So, apparently, Park Ban Ryu didn't know English. Who knew? This might actually turn out to be pretty fun.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Please tell me what you thought.
